


LEX AND CLARK: The New Adventures of Superboy 4 - Crush Revisited

by ssa_archivist



Category: Smallville
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Romance, episode-related
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-12-16
Updated: 2002-12-16
Packaged: 2017-11-01 10:39:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/355711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ssa_archivist/pseuds/ssa_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The new adventures of an old hero.<br/>WARNING: NC-17 rating is for violence.<br/>DISCLAIMER: I own nothing.  Smallville in specific and Superman in general are the property of DC Comics.<br/>SPECIAL THANKS to my beta Georgia Peach for helping me with this story.<br/>Also, thank you to The Smallville Transcript center for taking the time to transcribe every single episode.</p>
            </blockquote>





	LEX AND CLARK: The New Adventures of Superboy 4 - Crush Revisited

## LEX AND CLARK: The New Adventures of Superboy 4 - Crush Revisited

by Catlover

[]()

* * *

**CHAPTER FOUR:**

Crush Revisited 

Mama, just killed a man,  
Put a gun against his head,  
Pulled my trigger now he's dead, 

\- "Bohemian Rhapsody" performed by Queen 

April 25, 2002 

Luthor Towers - Metropolis, Kansas 

"What's the meaning of this?" yelled Roger Nixon as he limped into Lex's office. 

Waved about frantically, a copy of the latest issue of the Metropolis Journal was as worse for wear as the man who gripped it in a tightly clenched fist. With a loud thud, the man slammed the folded newsprint on Lex's mahogany desk, then stood back and waited for a response. 

Glancing up at Roger's bruised body, Lex smirked. Leaning back in his chair, he ran his eyes from the yellow-green bruises on Roger's face to the mobile cast enclosing Roger's left wrist to the cheap, metal cane held tightly in Roger's left hand. Allowing his eyes to follow this path of descent, Lex soon found himself staring at the top of his own desk. 

Staring back at Lex from the gray and black newsprint was himself. Reaching out without leaning forward, Lex picked up the crumpled newspaper. With the tips of his manicured fingers, he gripped it by the fold firmly. With a few slow flicks of his wrist, he shook the worse wrinkles from the paper and proceeded to hold it up before his face. As if reading the headline, he scrutinized his cover picture. 

Finally, Lex lowered the newspaper just enough to see Roger's flustered face. Meeting Roger's eyes, Lex replied flippantly, "Good PR." 

"Why this Kerrie Castle and not me?" demanded Roger. 

Slowly, Lex placed the paper down on his desk. Leaning back even further in his chair, he interlaced his fingers over his chest and answered, "I found her more deserving." 

"You son of a bitch!" 

With speed Lex didn't imagine Roger Nixon could possess in his present condition, Roger raised his cane, slamming it down on Lex's desk. Leaning over the desk, Roger pointed at Lex with an accusing right index finger. "First, you do this to me, then you give this slut your story and a plum managing editor position." 

Pulling his cane off the mahogany surface, Roger raged on. His gestures became wild. His lip's curled in anger. Stained red with blood, Roger's left eye bulged wildly. Standing straighter, he sneered, "What did she do - give you the best blowjob of your life? Or, did she have to do more?" 

Free of emotion, Lex's eyes glowed darkly. With a steady, commanding voice, Lex warned, "You forget yourself, Roger." 

"Oh, do I?" replied Roger, sarcastically. 

Out of his chair, Lex stood in a fluid manner. Letting momentum add power to his gesture, Lex slammed his open hand onto the desk's hard wood surface. "Yes, you do." 

Walking around his desk, Lex closed in the distance between him and Roger. Standing over Roger, his eyes narrowed as they looked down. "I don't answer to you. You answer to me. Understand?" 

Shaking with rage, Roger jabbed at Lex's chest with his right index finger. "You push me too far, Luthor. Just watch, one of these days, you'll learn that a kicked dog still has fangs." 

Swiftly, Lex kicked out Roger's cane. Smirking cruelly, Luthor watched as Roger fell with a sharp crack onto his right knee. Sliding his hands into his pants pockets, he mocked, "Why, Roger that sounded suspiciously like a threat." 

Struggling to his feet, Roger snapped, "You take it however you want, Luthor. You and your Daddy's money. You think it can buy anything, but there are people bigger than you and things more newsworthy than the freakish sight of you." 

Hobbling awkwardly, Roger wisely backed away. Looking at Lex's intense eyes, Roger willed his legs to go faster. With time, he stumbled across the room. The long while, Lex never said a word or moved in any way. As Roger reached the door, Lex's silence struck him hard in the spine, sending a chill straight to the base of his skull. Swallowing hard, Roger opened the door and fled from the room as fast as his legs could carry him. 

\-- <{()}>\-- 

Three Hours Later 

Metropolis Cemetery 

At noon, the sun reflected off Lillian Luthor's crypt blindingly. Standing before it, Lillian's son bowed his head. A small bouquet of violets rested in his tense hands. With a single step forward, Lex approached the grave respectfully, placing the bouquet reverently in the waiting vase affixed to Lillian's final resting place. 

The offering delivered, he stepped back quickly. Standing still, he let his arms hang limply. Closing his eyes, Lex addressed his Mother in a whisper, "Mama, I wish you were here." 

Bowing his head once again, Lex mumbled, "There is so much happening, right now. It's hard to sort it all out. I've made threats I'm afraid people are going to expect me to go through with. I've made promises I'm afraid he's going to expect me to keep." 

"In the past, I've done so many things, but I've never felt so tempted as I do right now. Mama, there is something I want to do, but at the same time, there is a man I want to be. I think you'd be proud of that man, but I can't be that man if I give into this temptation." 

"I keep trying to imagine what you'd want me to do. I keep trying to envision what you would do in my place. Sometimes, I can see you smiling at me. In those moments, I can almost believe you'd understand. Maybe, you would even help me do it. At other times, it's difficult to remember the exact shade of your hair. Sometimes, I can barely see your face. That's when I'm just as sure that you'd turn away from me, repulsed by what I have become. I wish I knew for sure, but logically, I know I can't ever know for sure." 

Reaching into his left jacket pocket, Lex pulled out a palm-sized, velvet pouch. Turning the pouch over, he let the contents spill out into the palm of his right hand. Looking at his palm, he watched the sunlight shine off the polished ebony beads and the delicate silver crucifix. Looking up, Lex stared at his Mother's grave marker. Painfully, his eyes traced the years of her life: 1951 - 1991. Silently, he marveled at the empty space beside Lillian's name that waited patiently for his Father. 

Reaching out with his left hand, Lex managed to not drop the velvet pouch while he stroked his Mother's name. With his fingers dancing along the white marble lettering, Lex whispered, "I wish I had your faith. It brought you such comfort at the end. I wonder what kind of comfort that kind of faith could give me, now. I guess it's just not me. I'm too much of a scientist. No matter how much I try, I can't bring myself to believe in signs and portents. All I can do is hold your rosary and pray to you." 

Suddenly, Lex felt watched. Tucking the rosary back into the velvet pouch, he palmed it into his pocket as the haunting scent of "An Evening In Paris" perfume wafted through the air. Without looking, he knew who it was, knew who it had to be. Pamela. It could only be the nanny from his youth, the sweet smelling woman with red hair from a bottle. 

\--<{()}>\-- 

Meanwhile, At The Kent Residence 

Books sprawled out in every direction. Hovering over them, Clark wondered how much tighter he could hold his pencil before it just broke in two. At least, pencil breaking was something he could understand. ' _Tell me_ , _when has geometry ever been important in my life_? _Oh yeah_. _Forgot_.' Scratching the top of his head, Clark stared at his geometry book with intense confusion. Which is why he was so happy for the distraction that appeared at his kitchen door. 

"Hey, Clark. Is your Mom around? I wanted to order some more of her pies," asked Lana. 

"Hi, Lana. She's at class. I can help you," said Clark as he gratefully closed the hated geometry book. 

Casually, Clark stood up and walked across the room. Opening the small roll-top desk in the Kent living room, he pulled out Martha's ledger. As Clark flipped to the right page, Lana commented, "I didn't expect to see you here. I thought you'd be helping Chloe with the next edition of The Smallville Torch." 

Shrugging, Clark looked up from the ledger. "Chloe has plenty of help. Trust me." 

Coming to stand beside Clark, Lana inquired, "Are you two fighting?" 

Looking back to the ledger, Clark turned a couple more pages before finding the right one. Pulling a pen out of a cup on the desk, he marked his place in the ledger and closed the thin volume. Half sitting on the desk, Clark balanced the ledger on his right thigh, as he answered, "Not really. It's just she doesn't need me, anymore. Not since Justin is there to be everything for her." 

Placing her left hand on Clark's knee, Lana stepped closer and asked, "Jealous?" 

Catching the ledger before it fell, Clark stepped away from the desk. Shaking his head, Clark answered, "Not jealous, just concerned. 

Opening the ledger, Clark picked up the pen and pressed the tip against the paper. "So, how many pies do you want?" 

Hugging herself, Lana answered quietly, "A dozen." 

As Clark wrote down the order, he asked absently, "So, how's Whitney?" 

Still hugging herself, Lana tripped over to the sofa, sinking down on it. "His Father's doing better, so Whitney's doing better." 

Finishing the order, Clark placed the ledger down and picked up the receipt book. Opening the receipt book, he took special care to place the dividing flap between the current receipt and the next one. As he filled out the receipt, Clark asked, "Everything okay?" 

Flipping her hair over her shoulder, Lana replied, "Everything should be wonderful. I mean, Whitney is a much better boyfriend, now than he used to be. He's attentive. He's romantic. I should be happy, right?" 

Ripping the receipt from the book, Clark put the receipt pad back in its slot. Walking over to Lana, he sat down next to her on the sofa. "You don't seem very happy. Have you talked to Whitney about it?" 

Shaking her head, Lana answered, "I can't. After Mr. Fordman got sick, Whitney needed me. It kind of defined our relationship. Now, Mr. Fordman's better and Whitney doesn't need me anymore. I wonder what Whitney and I can even have now that the need isn't there." 

Nodding, Clark agreed, "I know exactly what you mean." 

Pulling a small wad of cash out of her pocket, Lana handed the money over to Clark. As their fingers touched, she whispered, "Maybe Chloe and Justin have the right idea. Maybe, we're supposed to be with someone who wants us and loves us, not just someone who needs us." 

Sliding down the couch, Lana drew closer to Clark. As she opened her mouth to speak, Clark jumped up. Putting distance between himself and Lana, he thrust the money in his pocket and said, "Thanks for the sale. Every little bit helps." 

Handing Lana her receipt, Clark said, "I hope everything works out for you and Whitney, Lana." 

Taking the receipt, she stood up slowly. After folding the receipt, Lana slid the paper into her pocket and whispered, "I guess you really do, don't you, Clark?" 

Clark didn't answer. He just looked away. Her smile trembling, threatening to fall from her face, Lana walked to the front door. Opening the door, she took a step past the threshold before turning back. "Do you ever wish you could go back, Clark? Back to a time when your feelings were clear and not so confusing?" 

Nodding, Clark answered, "Sometimes, but then I'd have to give up everything I've gained. Growing up may be confusing, but I'd rather know myself than not know myself." 

Nodding in response, Lana left, closing the door softly behind her. 

\-- <{()}>\-- 

April 26, 2002 

Smallville High School 

Carefully, Clark entered the Torch newsroom. Ever since Justin Gaines arrived, he felt unwelcome here. Ever since he walked in on Justin and Chloe kissing, he felt unwelcome, period. Chloe made it very clear she was no longer a single person. She was now Chloe and Justin. She was now a strange form of "we" or "them." Clark wasn't quite sure which word fit, but both made him feel awfully alone. 

Earlier, Pete and Chloe refused to listen to Clark's theories concerning Justin. Of course, Chloe made it very clear she thought he was jealous. Pete seemed to agree. None of them knew. None of them understood, but then how could they? Clark never told them the truth. Everyday, the lies piled up higher and higher. He made up absurd explanations for how doors became unlocked. He explained away how he crossed town in seconds. It had gotten to the point where almost every other sentence contained a lie or a very veiled truth. 

Of course, Clark wasn't even truthful with facts most people would tell their friends. He never told them about how he felt. He never told his best friends for whom he really had feelings. ' _Lex_.' At this point, Clark had told Pete and Chloe so many half-truths and outright lies that they didn't trust him to be completely truthful anymore. Perhaps, they didn't even trust him anymore. That's why Clark is sneaking into the Torch office. He's looking for clues. He's looking for proof, something solid to show Chloe and Pete. 

'How does she find anything in this mess?' wondered Clark as he stared at the mountains of paperwork piled on desks, chairs and tables. 

Going from table to table, he shook his head. Opening the gray file cabinets, Clark sifted through files, finding nothing. At the computer table, he found some of Justin's cartoons and sneered, "Just a mild mannered cartoonist for a small town high school newspaper, huh? My ass!" 

Finally, he arrived at the fax. On the top of the stack, Clark found a piece of paper crumpled into a small ball. Uncurling the wad, he smoothed the wrinkled paper against his chest. Righting the paper, he read the typewritten words, realizing fairly soon that it was a DMV printout. Shaking his head, Clark wondered how many laws Chloe broke getting this one. From the date and time on the printout, he knew Chloe requested the information just a few hours ago. Clark noticed only one item was found from her search query. It appeared to be a perfect match. Looking closer, Clark noticed the DMV printout belonged to Principal Kwan. 

With a shiver running up his spine, Clark felt an alarm go off in his head. He remembered that the person who ran over Justin was never caught. The accident caused the loss of manual dexterity in Justin's hands. Looking back at the heavily wrinkled paper, Clark knew someone else saw this fax. What they saw did not make that person happy. Dropping the paper back down on the desk, Clark rushed from the room. 

Clark was so intent on reaching Principal Kwan before Justin did that he didn't notice he was being shadowed. He didn't see Roger Nixon standing there, receding hairline and all. He definitely didn't catch the digital camera Roger clutched tightly. As a result, after Clark opened the school hall doors, he hit super speed and disappeared from view. He never realized his trick was recorded while Roger Nixon grinned ear to ear. 

\-- <{()}>\-- 

A Couple Of Minutes Later 

The Kwan Residence 

"Justin, stop!" yelled Clark as he fell out of super speed. 

Looking over his right shoulder, Justin watched Clark jog up the street. Raising his right hand, Justin dispatched a wave of force in Clark's direction, knocking him off his feet. The wind knocked out of him, Clark shook the sparkling lights away from his eyes. Slowly, he rolled onto his stomach and pushed himself up onto his knees. Feeling his equilibrium return, Clark scrambled to his feet as Justin summoned his powers, centering them on Principal Kwan's brown station wagon. 

In shock, Clark watched as the station wagon started to shake. Without hesitation, he ran across the well-manicured lawn toward Justin. Taking a running leap, Clark threw himself at Justin, knocking them both to the ground. They rolled several times across the driveway before coming to a stop. Pinning Justin beneath him, Clark tried to break Justin's concentration. Grabbing Justin's shoulders, Clark shook the boy hard as he exclaimed, "Justin, you've got to stop this." 

Snapping his head forward, Justin looked directly at Clark. All at once, Clark understood what Lex meant about flying. One moment, he was holding Justin down. The next, he was sailing backwards. Eight feet away, he landed next to the car with a thud. Wincing from actual pain, Clark forced himself to stand and face Justin's vengeance again. 

With glazed over eyes, Justin rose effortlessly from the cement driveway. Walking toward the car, he addressed Clark, "Stay out of my way, Clark. You don't know what he did." 

Bringing his hands up - palms out - Clark answered, "I do know. I saw the fax. Listen to me, if you do what you're thinking of doing, you'll regret it." 

"I don't think so," replied Justin. 

Without warning, Justin used his powers to rip the metal, driveway lighting from the ground. Hurling them at Clark, Justin stepped forward, but stopped short as he watched the lighting posts shatter against Clark's head and torso. With ever widening eyes, he watched the last lamp explode against Clark's cheek. 

Absently, Clark brushed broken glass and shards of twisted metal from his clothes and hair as he said, "Listen to me. If you try to hurt Principal Kwan, I have to try to stop you." 

Filled with rage, Justin's eyes flashed brightly. "Why are you protecting him?" 

"I'm not protecting him. I'm protecting you. Listen, we have proof, now. We can go to the police," answered Clark. 

It started with a chuckle. It continued into a titter until finally, hysterically, Justin began to laugh. Clutching his stomach, Justin argued, "The police? Clark. The police didn't do anything when this happened to me. If the police had done their jobs before then he'd be arrested already. I mean. We're kids, Clark and we found the plate number in a couple of hours. It was on a DMV printout, for crying out loud." 

Falling silent, Justin let his anger focus his power on the car in front of him. Just as the car started to move, Clark raced to the front of the car and grabbed the bumper. Pushing back against Justin's mental powers, Clark warned, "Please, Justin. I don't want to hurt you, but I will. 

At that moment the garage door gears roared to life. Within seconds, the door was neatly tucked away. Standing in the garage, Principal Kwan's first impression was one of auto theft since the boy closest to him seemed to be pushing his car out of the driveway. Stepping forward, Kwan raised his fist and asked, "What are you kids doing here?" 

Looking past Clark, Justin centered on Principal Kwan. Stepping around the station wagon, Justin walked slowly toward Kwan. Pointing at Kwan, Justin accused, "You. You did this to me." 

Drawn to Justin's extended hand, Kwan's eyes glowed with recognition. Slowly, Kwan lowered his arm. His tightly clenched fist loosened until his hand hung limply by his side. 

Then, it started. The very ground seemed to shiver with fear. Taking a step back, Principal Kwan raised an arm in defense as pieces of jagged metal and broken glass rose off the ground. Dangerously, the hovering shards started to swirl clockwise around Justin. Like a wild, uninhibited dance, the debris spun around. For ten feet in every direction, the storm raged, whirling even faster now. Calm with purpose, at the eye of this horrible storm, Justin placed a foot forward. Moving toward Kwan, Justin pulled the tornado of debris along with him. 

Huddled on the floor, Principal Kwan covered his face as pieces of metal started to cut through his clothing, scratching his skin. Jerking back from the pain, he looked down long enough to see blood spreading across the tattered remnants of his shirt. Sneaking a glance at Justin, he felt cold tremors spread through his body as he looked into the boy's empty eyes. 

Then, Justin's image blurred. The shards were flying by so fast now they could barely be seen. So fast, they shielded Justin from view behind a swirling curtain of jagged metal and glass. Letting a smile drift onto his face, he left control by the wayside. Justin felt the force he wielded sink into the dirt beneath him, drawing up whatever it could to aid in his quest for destruction. Large stones flew from the earth, joining the mix. Wild with vengeance, Justin took another step closer to Kwan's cringed form, bringing the brunt of his torment closer to the cowering man. 

Suddenly, Clark stood before Justin. Within the eye of the storm, Clark avoided looking at the dizzy spinning surrounding him. Gazing directly into Justin's eyes, Clark ordered, "Justin, don't." 

Never meeting Clark's gaze, Justin's vision remained riveted to where Principal Kwan knelt. "He made me into a freak. He ruined my life." 

By the smallest of degrees, the storm's momentum slowed. Bringing his gaze to bear accusingly on Clark, Justin argued, "Don't you see? He's got this house, his successful career and his perfect little life. What did he leave me with?" 

Reaching out, Clark grabbed a hold of Justin by the upper arms. Narrowing his eyes, Justin struggled to get away, but was unable to free himself from Clark's vise-like grip. Frustrated, Justin yelled, "You can't let him get away with this. He left me there. He didn't call for help. He left me there to die. I deserve this, Clark. I deserve a little vengeance." 

In disbelief, Justin watched Clark shake his head. Angry, Justin saw the color in Clark's eyes start to shimmer. "I don't want your pity. I just want you to step aside." 

For a second, Clark considered it. For a second, he almost let go, but he knew that wasn't the answer. With regret, Clark looked down at Justin and said, "I can't do that." 

Again, Justin struggled to break free of Clark's grip. Again, Justin failed. This time, the storm lessened considerably. The gale force winds died down until they resembled off shore breezes. While the smaller pieces of metal and glass still slowly whirled about them, the stones fell to Earth. Straining his neck to look over Clark's shoulder, Justin saw Kwan fearfully stand up. 

Pushing harder against Clark, Justin threw accusations at Kwan. "This is all your fault. You were the one driving too fast. You were the one who hit me. What did I ever do to you?" 

Justin watched as Kwan's shoulders slumped. As he hung his head down, Justin screamed, "Look at me!" 

Jerking his head up, Kwan looked up. He saw Justin standing behind Clark, straining against Clark's hold. Listening intently, Principal Kwan heard emotion crack Justin's voice as he asked, "How could you leave me to die on the street? How could you just leave me there to suffer alone? Why? Why did you do it?" 

By the last question, silent tears ran down Justin's face. Closing his eyes, he shut out the world. All around him, the swirling debris drifted to the ground, landing softly. Feeling suddenly weak, he felt his legs give out underneath him. In Clark's tight grasp, Justin felt himself lowered slowly to the ground. Kneeling on the ground, Justin started to shake his head from side to side in wide arcs. Following the smooth rhythm of his shaking head, Justin rolled his head up and opened his red, burning eyes. Looking up at Kwan's contrite form, Justin softly said, "I'm nothing now. All I had is gone. You took away the one thing that made me special. You took my gift away. Why? What did I ever do to you? Tell me, please. Tell me, what did I do to deserve this?" 

Stepping forward cautiously, Principal Kwan approached Justin's trembling form. Kneeling on the driveway like Clark and Justin already were, Kwan cleared his throat before saying, "I'm so sorry. I didn't know. I promise you, I'll make this right." 

Staring back at Kwan's remorseful face, Justin began to chuckle softly. Letting the tremors of laughter travel through his tired body, Justin replied, "You can't make this right. Look at me. Look at my hands. Look at what you've done. You can't put me back the way I was. There is no way to fix me." 

Swiveling one knee up, Clark twisted around to look at Principal Kwan. "Principal Kwan, you need to confess. You have to go to the police and turn yourself in." 

Nodding, Kwan reached out and placed a hand on Justin's shoulder. Squeezing it slightly, Kwan swore, "I didn't do this to you, Justin, but I know who did. I promise you my son will confess." 

Meeting Kwan's steady eyes, Justin replied angrily, "What good are your promises to me?" 

Loosening his grip on Justin's arms, Clark said, "Justin, just give him a chance." 

Leaning in, Kwan chimed in, "Give me one day." 

Looking back and forth from Clark to Kwan and back again, Justin sighed loudly before nodding half-heartedly. Pulling his hands back, Clark let go of Justin completely. Instantly, Justin jumped to his feet. Looking down at Kwan, Justin reaffirmed, "Okay. You have one day." 

Standing up, Clark stepped beside Justin. Placing a soothing hand on Justin's shoulder, Clark said, "Come on, Justin. Let's get out of here." 

Staring at the ground, Justin let Clark steer him away from Kwan's suburban home. Only after he and Clark were several blocks removed from Kwan's manicured lawns did Justin shrug Clark's hand away. Walking side-by side, Justin and Clark made their way along old Hwy 90 in silence. 

Stepping onto the country road leading out to Smallville's many farms, Justin glanced to the right and said, "Clark?" 

Glancing back at Justin, Clark answered, "Yeah?" 

Looking at the dusty road stretched out before them, Justin said, "Thanks." 

Nodding, Clark looked back at the road. Again, they walked in silence. A couple lanes passed quietly before Justin glanced at Clark again. 

"Clark?" asked Justin. 

Looking down at his feet, Clark took a deep breath and replied, "Yeah." 

"You're like me, aren't you? That's how you stopped the car and the lamps," Justin inquired. 

Stuffing his large hands into his jean pockets, Clark shrugged his shoulders as he answered, "I don't know what I am." 

Looking back at the road, Justin nodded. Turning to speak, Justin's voice was drowned out by the roaring of heavy construction equipment. Together, Justin and Clark watched three backhoe loaders, two dump trucks and a crawler tractor go by. Looking over their shoulders at the same time, they witnessed the balls of dust left in the massive vehicle's wake. 

Once the massive vehicles were gone, Clark looked over at Justin, noting the question in Justin's eyes. Nodding, Clark motioned for Justin to go ahead. 

Digging his feet into the dirt, Justin asked, "Does Chloe know?" 

"No. Does she know about your powers?" Clark replied. 

Nodding, Justin smiled all at once, "Yeah." 

Clark's eyes grew large and his mouth fell open. "You told her?" 

Smiling, Justin stood very still for a second. A second later, pebbles, grass and twigs flew up, hovering around Justin and Clark. Shrugging, Justin smirked as he quipped, "It just sort of came up." 

Smiling broadly, Clark couldn't keep a ripple of laughter from escaping. Squinting, Clark looked around, inspecting the swirling bits. "How do you do that?" 

Looking around at the swirling debris, Justin closed his eyes for a second. During that second, all the little bits fell to the ground. Opening his eyes, Justin replied, "I just do it. It started right after the accident. At first, I couldn't control it. It was kind of funny. It drove the nurses crazy, because they couldn't blame the kid in traction, but they just knew it was me." 

"You see, Clark it's always there. It's like I'm at the center of a tornado. There's this force all around me, raging out of control, but when I concentrate, it's like the clouds parting on a calm day. After a while, I didn't need to consciously think about it to be able to control it. It's like the way your brain knows to tell your heart to beat. It just does it. You don't have to think about it, for it to happen. Unfortunately, if I'm really distracted, like before, then the storm rages out of control again." 

Narrowing his eyes, Clark cocked his head to the side and asked, "Earlier, that wasn't just lack of control." 

Slowly, Justin nodded, "You're right. I can focus the force, but all the kinks aren't out of that trick, yet." 

Rubbing his cheek, Clark joked, "I don't know. I think you're already a pretty good shot." 

Justin's eyes widened fearfully until he saw the twinkle of laughter in Clark's blue eyes. Exhaling loudly, Justin chuckled softly. Punching Clark in the arm, he said, "Man, I'm sorry about that. I wasn't thinking clearly, y'know?" 

Placing a hand on Justin's shoulder, Clark nodded. "I know." 

They started walking again. After a few feet, Justin looked at Clark and asked, "Do your parents know?" 

Nodding, Clark answered, "Yeah. They're always afraid that I'm going to get caught." 

Shrugging, Justin said, "Hey, at least, they know. I still haven't told mine. I'm just afraid they'll see me as a freak. I mean, what if they're disappointed in me? My parents have always meant so much to me. I don't know if I could survive something like that." 

Frowning, Clark asked, "Who does know?" 

Sighing loudly, Justin replied, "Chloe was the first. And, now you. And, I guess Principal Kwan. From here, who knows? Chloe was so cool about it that I think I might me able to tell my parents someday." 

Nodding, Clark warned, "Okay, just be careful. As my Dad says if you tell the wrong person you could end up in a lab." 

Tipping back his head, Justin laughed out loud, "Well, I'd like to see somebody try." 

Narrowing his eyes, Clark replied darkly, "No, you wouldn't." 

Quickly, Justin looked at Clark's tense face. "Did somebody find out about you that shouldn't have?" 

Nodding, Clark continued to walk. Glancing at Justin, Clark answered quickly, "It was a cop." 

Throwing his hands in the air, Justin cursed under his breath. Shaking his head, Justin asked, "What happened?" 

The emotion faded from Clark's face. Looking down at the ground, Clark replied, "I'd rather not talk about it. Let's just say that he'll never be able to do anything to me or anyone else, ever again." 

Raising his eyebrows, Justin glanced at Clark. Pursing his lips into a tight "o," he whistled. "Ooh. That was darker than it needed to be. Gee, Clark I thought you were one of the good guys." 

Smiling, Clark answered, "I am, but I'm not a saint." 

Justin laughed first. Followed shortly thereafter by Clark. After several minutes, Justin panted loudly as he asked, "Are you going to tell Chloe?" 

Cocking his head to the side, Clark said, "I'd rather have as few people knowing as possible." 

Shaking his head, Justin clarified, "No. Clark, that's not what I meant." 

Stopping in his tracks, Clark waited for Justin to stop, too. Once Justin turned to face him, Clark said, "I know. Look, let's make a deal. You keep my secret and I keep yours. Deal?" 

Stepping forward, Clark extended his hand. Immediately, Justin took Clark's hand. 

"Deal." 

\--<{()}>\-- 

April 27, 2002 

Kent Farm 

With a loud gasp, Martha jerked away from the shadowy figure standing in her doorway. With a hand pressed against her chest, Martha exclaimed, "Lex! Make some noise, next time." 

"Sorry, Mrs. Kent. I'll definitely remember to make noise, next time," answered Lex as he opened the kitchen screen door. 

With a smile, Martha pushed away from the sink full of breakfast dishes. As she wiped her hands on a towel, she said, "Well, make sure you do, because next time I'll put a cow bell on you." 

In response, Lex looked genuinely concerned. ' _I bet you would_ ,' thought Lex. Clearing his throat, he replied, "Yes, Ma'am." 

Once inside the kitchen, Lex reached into his jacket. Stepping closer to Martha, he pulled out a legal-sized envelope, presenting it to Martha wordlessly. Martha put down the towel and accepted the envelope, turning it over again and again. Looking up from the envelope, she asked, "What's this?" 

Clasping his hands behind his back, Lex replied, "It's the insurance settlement check. I wanted to bring it over personally." 

Nodding, Martha walked into the living room, waving at Lex to follow her. As Lex stood in the middle of the living room, Martha walked over to a small, oak roll top desk. As he watched her open the top drawer, Lex stated, "I believe you'll find the check is for the exact amount you and Mr. Kent submitted to the insurance company." 

Placing the letter into the drawer, Martha said, "Thank you, Lex but I don't need to inspect the check. I'll just leave it here, so I can show it to Jonathon when he gets home." 

As he watched her close the drawer softly, Lex offered, "Mrs. Kent, I need you to believe that I had nothing to do with what happened to your herd or your land." 

"I know that, Lex," replied Martha. Motioning with her right hand, she directed Lex to sit down on the sofa as she sank down in a worn, but comfortable chair. Once Lex sat down, she continued. "Clark told me about Club Zero." 

Licking his lips, Lex responded, "Did he." 

Martha frowned, deep in thought. Looking into Lex's eyes, she said, "I'll be honest with you, Lex I'm worried for Clark. So much has happened this past year. Clark started high school. Things between him and his Father have been strained, at times. On top of that, this town just gets stranger all the time. Yesterday, Principal Kwan's son, Danny, turned himself into the police for running over Justin Gaines last year. It's a lot for me to take. I can only imagine what it's doing to Clark." 

"With everything else that's going on, I don't want to have to worry about his safety when he's with you. To put it bluntly, I don't want your past to hurt him." 

Returning Martha's intense gaze, Lex answered, "I don't want my past to hurt him, either. Believe me, Mrs. Kent I work very hard at protecting Clark." 

Leaning forward towards Lex, Martha smiled and said, "Then, we have at least that in common." 

Nodding, Lex smiled back at Martha. They held each other's gaze for a second until Lex broke away, looking around the room. "Speaking of Clark, is he here?" 

Cocking her head toward the barn, Martha replied, "Out in his fortress of solitude. I'm sure he'd be happy to see you." 

With a slight nod, Lex stood up. He headed for the front door, turning back toward Martha as he took a hold of the doorknob. "Thank you, Mrs. Kent." 

Standing up, Martha fumbled her fingers over the woven surface of the chair she just vacated. "Well, Lex. Thank you... For bringing over the check." 

Nodding once, Lex took his leave of the Kent residence. Crossing a fifty-foot makeshift driveway, he pulled the barn door open and climbed the stairs inside as he had so many times before. Once he reached the top of the stairs, he could see Clark sitting on his second hand couch, reading a book with great interest. Making his presence known, Lex said, "Hey, Clark." 

Snapping his head to the left, Clark stared at Lex wide-eyed. Answering the unspoken question, Lex explained, "I came by to give your parents the insurance settlement check." 

Sitting down next to Clark, Lex cocked his head and peered at the book in Clark's hand. "What are you reading?" 

Closing the book, Clark flashed the cover at Lex. Raising an eyebrow, Lex asked, "You're reading 'Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus.' Why the sudden interest in the opposite sex?" 

"It seems like all the women in my life have gone insane," answered Clark. "Take Chloe for example, ever since she and Justin started dating she's totally blown me off. We were supposed to go to Metropolis next week to attend a journalism conference. True, I totally forgot to sign us up. My bad. I admit it, but now, she's going with Justin. I used to help her with the Torch. Not anymore. Not since she has Justin to help her. Get this - She's not even Chloe, anymore. No. Now, she's 'Justin and I.' As in, Justin and I went out last night, or Guess what Justin and I saw, this morning." 

Bowing down his head a bit, Lex glanced up at Clark's tense face. "Clark, are you jealous?" 

Sitting forward, Clark threw the book down on his wooden crate coffee table. "Why does everyone keep asking me that? First, Lana. Then, Chloe and Pete. Now, you. When does it end? I ask you can't I just be concerned over losing a good friend? Is that completely outside the realm of possibility?" 

Watching Clark carefully, Lex answered, "Of course not. Clark, the reason people think you're jealous is because of the sudden interest. You didn't tend to notice her so much before. Sure, she's your friend, but people don't tend to get so excited about just a friend. That's Human nature. It's sad, but true." 

Nodding as Lex spoke, Clark relaxed as he listened to his explanation. As Lex finished, Clark smirked. Glancing over at him, Clark asked, "You seemed awfully interested when you saw the book, Lex and you're Human. Does that mean you're jealous?" 

Sitting back, Lex allowed a lengthy pause to stretch out as he leered at Clark. Finally, Lex answered, "I think that question safely falls into the category of subjects you're not allowed to ask me about, yet." 

Rolling his eyes, Clark said, "Oh sure, that old excuse." 

Chuckling softly, Lex sat forward and said, "Yeah. Well. Seriously, Clark back to the previous exchange. Don't worry so much about Chloe. What she's doing is perfectly normal. You're still her friend. She's still your friend. It's just she's a little blind with happiness over having a boyfriend. Once the bloom fades, she'll remember she has friends." 

"As for all the women in your life seeming insane, well Clark, there comes a point in every man's life when he realizes he'll simply never understand the opposite sex. They're a mystery. Perhaps, it was meant to be that way. Understand?" 

Interlacing his fingers, Clark looked down at his hands and answered, "I guess." 

Slapping Clark on the back, Lex flinched as he rose to his feet. "You've got quite a set of back muscles there, Clark. I know guys that work out incessantly and don't have muscles that toned." 

"Well, I do a lot of chores," answered Clark as he cocked his head to the side, looking at the ground. 

Once again, Lex got the itching suspicion that Clark was being less than truthful. Narrowing his eyes, he asked, "Are you saying that instead of Tae Bo, people should be doing the farm boy workout?" 

In response, Clark shrugged. 

Stepping back, he ran his eyes over Clark one last time. Silently, Lex mused, ' _There_ ' _s no doubt about it_. _You_ ' _re hiding something_.' Snapping back to reality, Lex said, "Well, I just came up to say 'hi.' I need to get back to the office." 

Looking up at Lex, Clark replied, "See ya later, Lex and thanks for everything." 

Smiling honestly, Lex answered back, "As always, for you, it's no problem. Bye, Clark." 

With a small, but noticeable bounce in his step, Lex left the Kent's barn. Opening his car door, he pulled out his cell phone to check his messages. The fourth message caught his eye. Selecting the message, he held the phone to his ear as he stepped into his car. The familiar gruff voice belonging to Simon filled Lex's ear. "Mr. Luthor, please call me back at your earliest convenience." 

Sitting behind the wheel, Lex sighed heavily. Carefully, he placed the phone on the seat beside him. A second passed with Lex sitting very still with his hands on his thighs. With a decisive nod of the head, he stuck his key in the lock and started the fine piece of Italian engineering. Putting the car in gear, he popped the clutch as he pressed the gas. Backing out of the Kent's driveway, he waited until he was clear down to the road before picking up the phone and punching in Simon's phone number. 

Once the phone picked up, Lex didn't even bother to wait for a greeting. "Simon, what's going on with Nixon?" 

"Mr. Luthor, I'm glad you called," Simon replied, quickly. "After Nixon left your office, he came to Smallville. For the better part of the day, he trailed one Clark Kent. Yesterday, he went to the Kent residence. He waited until everyone left then he broke into the house. After seventeen minutes he left the main house and headed to the barn. Spent eleven minutes in the barn. After that, he exited the barn and opened up the storm cellar. He spent thirteen minutes in the storm cellar. He must have found something because he was grinning ear to ear and holding tight to a digital camera when he came out. After that, he left the farm." 

Turning sharply, Lex took the road that encircled Smallville. In his mind's eye, Lex saw Martha Kent. He saw Clark. His imagination running wild, he considered what might have happened if one of the Kents had come home before Nixon left. Pushing the accelerator down, Lex let the hum of the engine take over. 

"Mr. Luthor?" inquired Simon. 

"Where is Nixon, now?" demanded Lex. 

"He's local. He rented a room at the Farrington Inn, here in town. Do you know where it is?" 

"Yeah, I know, but listen to me. I want you to pick him up. Do it quietly. I don't want any bad press out of this." Holding the steering wheel tightly, Lex flexed the fingers of his left hand over the slick leather. 

Staring intently at the road stretched out before him, he commanded, "Once you've picked him up, take him to the quarry on the far side of town. I'll meet you there. Start on him as soon as you get there whether I'm present or not. Also Simon, send one of your boys to find the hard evidence. I don't want any loose ends." 

"As you wish, Mr. Luthor," answered Simon before the line went dead. 

\-- <{()}>\-- 

Forty-Five Minutes Later 

Old Smallville Quarry 

Strapped to a chair, Roger Nixon was barely recognizable. Bruised where they hit him and bleeding from where they cut him, Roger sat defenseless. In his hazy mind, he heard another car pull up. Inwardly, he retreated from this new threat, seeking refuge in unconsciousness. 

Rudely snatched from his safe haven, Roger pulled away from the smelling salts under his nose. Again, the sulfur charged fumes waved past his nose, forcing Nixon to open his eyes. Looking up, Roger wasn't surprised in the least to see Lex Luthor staring down at him. 

"I told you to leave the Kents alone, Roger," Lex stated in a steady voice. "You should have listened to me." 

Laughing, from the pain, from the blood loss, from the absurdity of the moment, Roger wasn't sure, but laughing he was. "You can't stop me. This story is bigger than you. It's not going away." 

Crossing his arms over his chest, Lex answered, "You're wrong, Roger. Nothing is bigger than I am." 

Shaking his head clumsily, Roger replied, "No, this is. This is. That Kent kid. He's a freak and I can prove it. All the tabloid rags in the world will be vindicated. This story will make me a legend." 

Pushing back the curiosity nagging at his brain, Lex retorted, "Not if it's never published." 

Leaning forward, Roger strained against his bonds. "You can't stop me, Luthor. You don't have enough money to buy all the newspapers in the country." 

Smirking coldly, Lex replied, "I don't need to do that, Roger. I just need to keep you here." 

Suddenly quiet, Roger paled. "People will miss me." 

Now, it was Lex's turn to laugh. "No, they won't." 

Walking around Roger's bound form, Lex continued, "You're a sleazy tabloid reporter, Roger. For that alone, most people would be glad to see you gone. The one bit of family you have has got to be tired of you hitting him up for files and corruptible contacts within the Social Services department. He might be concerned for a while, but in the end, I think he'll be relieved." 

As Lex watched Roger pale to a frosted shade of light peach, another car pulled up. A couple seconds later, a young man walked up to the small congregation. Approaching Lex, the man presented his bundle. "Mr. Luthor, I found these inside the door of his car." 

From the spread cloth, Lex picked up a small, silver digital camera. Turning it on, Lex looked at the LCD screen. A dark, blurry image of Roger's hand filled the screen. It took a second for Lex to realize Roger's hand was reaching for a large green tarp. As Roger started to pull back the tarp, Lex shut off the digital camera. Inspecting the rest of the evidence, Lex found several computer disks and a couple digital memory sticks. In the center of it all, Lex found a CD he recognized as a match for the one Nixon created, detailing the way the Porsche hit Clark and ran off the bridge. 

Placing the digital camera back in the bundle, Lex motioned with a raised hand for the unnamed thug to hold it for a while. Stepping aside, he picked up a few blood stained rags that were once Roger's clothes. Placing them in a metal trashcan, Lex extended his hand toward Simon and asked, "Do you have any lighter fluid?" 

Nodding, Simon walked over to a table erected next to Roger's trembling body. On the table were a plethora of potentially lethal and pain-inducing items among which was lighter fluid. Grabbing the lighter fluid, he didn't delay in returning to Lex with it. Lex took the metal squeeze can from Simon and proceeded to douse the rags with the noxious fluid. 

Once done, he handed the can back to Simon. Without having to be asked, Simon handed Lex a box of wooden matchsticks. Sliding the box open, Lex gingerly pulled out a matchstick. Igniting the red tip by striking it against the box, he didn't hesitate before tossing it into the trashcan. 

After the initial burst of flame, Lex turned around. "Bring the evidence over here." 

The young thug obeyed instantly. Before the boy could throw the bundle into the flames himself, Lex grabbed hold of the cloth. For a moment, Lex paused, until with a smile, he pitched the bundle into the fire. 

Glancing over his shoulder, Lex looked at Roger's defeated face. "Why Roger, you look like someone just stole your puppy." 

Lowering his head, Roger didn't stop until his chin pressed against his chest. Wallowing in self-pity, Roger came to attention when he heard Lex say, "Make sure he never witnesses anything ever again." 

Thrusting his large hands into his baggy jacket, Simon asked, "Do you want that I should kill him?" 

Stopped in his tracks, Lex felt the temptation tug at him again. Remembering the promise he made to Nixon, Lex struggled with what he wanted and what he felt he needed to do. Finally, he looked at Simon and answered, "No, just take his eyes." 

Stepping forward, Simon reached for a large hunting knife resting on the adjacent table. Open-mouthed, Roger watched as Simon tested the blade on his thumb. As Simon sucked on the small cut he made in his flesh, Roger yelled, "Don't be stupid, Luthor. This isn't easily covered up. You're not thinking clearly. You don't want to do this." 

Advancing fast, Lex grabbed Roger by the throat. Leaning down, Lex whispered, "You're right, Roger. I didn't want to do this, but you made it a necessity by not doing what I told you to do." 

Slapping Roger's head back, Lex stepped aside. In his place, Simon emerged from the background. Placing his left hand on Roger's forehead, Simon pushed Roger's head to the left while he drew the blade in his right hand high into the air. 

In desperation, Roger babbled, "Please, Mr. Luthor. You have the proof. You have everything. I have nothing. Let me go. You'll never see me again. Don't take my eyes. Please, don't take my eyes." 

Walking over to the table, Lex picked up a pistol. Rubbing his hand over the barrel of the gun, Lex spat out, "You're pathetic. I should just eliminate you now." 

Blubbering at this point, Roger Nixon begged for his life as Simon stepped away from him. "No. Please. I don't want to die." 

Pointing the gun at Roger's chest, Lex raged, "You defy me. You threaten those I protect." 

With a fast hand, Lex cocked the handgun. In front of him, Roger continued to beg. "Oh God. Please, don't. I'll do anything. Please. I don't want to die. I don't want to." 

Rigidly, Lex stood. Holding the gun tightly, Lex's index finger trembled against the trigger. Breathing heavily, Lex could hear voices all around him. 

His Father's voice commanded him to go through with his promise. "Show no weakness, son." 

His Mother's voice spoke softly, gently like the day she died. "This isn't what I wanted for you, Alex." 

Clark's voice spoke clearly, cutting through the fog in his mind as it had the last time. "If anyone can choose who they want to be, Lex, it's you." 

Turning back to the table, Lex placed the gun on the cool, metal tabletop. Placing his hands on the hard surface, he leaned over the table and closed his eyes. To his right, he could sense Simon staring at him, waiting for the word. To his left, he could hear Roger crying. "Thank you. God. Thank you." 

' _Pathetic little man_ ,' thought Lex. ' _He won_ ' _t stop_. _If I let him go_ , _he_ ' _ll be back_. _Next time_ , _he might hurt the Kents_. _He might hurt Clark_. _He knows things_. _He knows about Clark_ ' _s adoption_. _He could blackmail them and Jonathon Kent would never come to me for help_. _He_ ' _d watch his son be dragged away before accepting even the most benign help from me_. _No_ , _this is the only way_.' 

Swiftly, Lex picked up the gun with his left hand. Taking only a moment to aim, he shot Roger Nixon in the left temple. Only a foot from the point of contact, blood, bone and brains splattered on Lex's hand and forearm. Recoiling with the backfire, he stepped away from Roger's dead body. Instantly, a handkerchief-covered hand wrapped around the smoking gun, wresting it free from Lex's hand. Numb, Lex could only watch as Simon wiped down the gun. 

Coming to life, Lex pulled his suit jacket off. Quietly, he used it to rub sweat and blood droplets off his face. Taking a few steps backwards, he gracefully turned on his right foot, stopping in front of the still raging fire. Dropping the jacket in the trashcan, Lex started to unbutton his shirt. Smoothly, he unfastened his cufflinks, slipping them in the pocket of his slacks. Sliding the shirt off, he paused long enough to loosely fold it before tossing it into the roaring flames. 

Not looking back, Lex raised a hand and waved it weakly. "Make sure to clean up everything before you leave." 

As he departed the violent scene he designed, Lex could hear Simon's gravelly voice say, "As you wish, Mr. Luthor." 

\-- <{()}>\-- 

Four Hours Later 

Metropolis General Hospital 

Now he was here, he didn't know what to do. Entering the small room filled with furniture of institutional design, Lex tried not to make a sound. Pulling his black trench coat tightly over his naked chest, he stared at the woman he came to visit. In the dimly lit room, Pamela stretched out over the thin mattress and foam rubber pillows as lights flashed and a pinging alarm sounded nearby. 

Suddenly, Lex felt foolish. Pivoting on his right foot, he turned to leave as a weak voice filled the air. 

"You're the last person I expected to see," said Pamela in a strained voice. 

Glancing over his shoulder, Lex agreed, "This is the last place I expected to be. When I got in my car earlier, I didn't mean to come here. At some point the car stopped and I realized I was in the hospital parking lot." 

Struggling to keep her chin up, Pamela whispered, "All the same, I'm glad you're here now, Alexander." 

Turning back, Lex stepped forward to stand by Pamela's bedside. "I've missed you." 

Pamela nodded. Quietly, she said, "Oh, Alexander. Please, believe me. I never wanted to leave you. Everyday, I've missed you." 

Reaching out, Lex took a hold of Pamela's small hand. Frowning at his trembling fingers, Pamela asked, "What is it, Alexander?" 

"I miss her so much," replied Lex, his voice thick with emotion. 

A single tear ran down Pamela's cheek as she answered, "So do I." 

Looking up, Lex fought back the tears that threatened to spill forth. "It's been so long, Pam. I wonder if there's anything left of her in me." 

Offering a fragile smile, Pamela sighed, "Of course, there is. She was your Mother. You'll always carry a piece of her with you." 

His eyes shimmering, Lex looked down at Pam and confessed, "I've done things. Horrible things." 

Biting her lower lip, Pamela replied, "Alex, I don't know what you've done, but the fact that you're here, tells me that there's more of your Mother in you than even you realize." 

Squeezing Pamela's hand tighter, Lex whispered, "Help me, Pam. I'm afraid I'm becoming him. Act by act, little bit by little bit, I'm becoming a little more like him everyday." 

"No," insisted Pamela, "You may be your Father's son, but you're your Mother's son, too. Don't you ever forget that." 

Blinking hard, Lex pushed back the tears in time to smile at Pamela. "If there's hope for me to become a better man than the one I am right now, then it's because of her and you." 

At Lex's words, Pamela smiled. For a second, she glowed. Then, fatigue returned, capturing her in its grasp. Closing her eyes, Pamela's lifeless hand fell from Lex's grasp. All at once, sirens rang as the constant ping stretched out into a high-pitched squeal. Avoiding the nurses who rushed into the room, Lex exited, first the room, then the hospital itself. In a fog, he somehow made his way back to his car. Sitting behind the wheel, he started up the engine and drove away. 

Determined to start fresh, Lex headed back to Smallville. 

\--<{()}>\-- 

April 28, 2002 

Smallville Cemetery 

Grave markers held fast against the torrential rains. Amidst the granite and concrete slabs, in the center of the rows of bronze nameplates, Smallville's youth gathered around the muddy hole marking the final resting place of the elder Mr. Fordman. 

The Smallville High football team was there - Their letterman jackets set aside in lieu of dark suits. The Smallville student body reps were there. More importantly, Whitney Fordman was there, accompanied by his Mother, Lana and all their friends. 

As he watched his Father's casket be lowered into the ground, Whitney bowed his head. He failed to keep all the tears at bay. As he felt a tear run down his cheek, Whitney also felt Lana's gentle hand brush it away with a handkerchief. At her touch, Whitney frowned less. Holding Lana tightly, like a lifeline, he leaned against her strong frame, needing her strength. 

In his arms, Lana could feel Whitney's need. In response, she held Whitney tighter, unwilling to let Whitney down even though she never took her eyes off of Clark. As she embraced Whitney, she watched Clark's lonely figure. As she rested her head on Whitney's shoulder, Lana looked at Clark's distant expression. 

Standing without an umbrella, Clark's wet hair curled at the ends. His face was miserable as rivulets of rain ran down his cheeks. Looking to his left, he saw Chloe and Justin huddled under a shared umbrella. Straight ahead, he saw Whitney lean on Lana. Glancing at Whitney's newly widowed Mother, he ached for her open grief. Staring at the dark, open grave, Clark remembered Cassandra's prediction. He saw the headstones surrounding him. He saw the names of all his friends upon them. 

Casting his eyes over the gray skies above, Clark turned and walked away. With slumped shoulders, Clark wondered, 'How many funerals are in my future?' 

* * *

Author's Note: 

As you all know by now, in my world, Roger Nixon is dead. Of course, as always, my "If I mention it, it changed. If I don't mention it then it didn't change" rule is still in effect. Therefore, all the scenes involving Roger Nixon in any way, in the next two episodes never happened. Erase them from your mind, completely. 

As for the next two episodes, know this - My Tempest will not end in a cliffhanger. That said, some parts of the next two episodes had to be shifted around to make room for the ending to Tempest. I know that sounds vague and confusing, but just read the next two chapters. I promise you - It will all make sense in the end. 


End file.
